Hazard Pay
by mongoose-bite
Summary: Zaeed's been a hired gun for more than twenty years, and he had it all worked out. But the kind of loyalty Shepard demanded of him just wasn't for sale, at any price.
1. Zorya

All characters and locations belong to Bioware. No money is being made. This fic is dedicated to Lurking Grue, who thought of it first.

* * *

Only her index finger moved. Tapping out a beat only she could hear as Zorya grew ever larger and more luminous out the windows of the shuttle. He'd heard her tell Garrus she missed the Mako sometimes, and Zaeed could have sworn the turian had flinched slightly. If Garrus hadn't been so tight-lipped about everything to everyone except her he'd have asked for the story behind it.

She'd left her old comrade behind this time, following some arcane formula for team selection that had made it impossible for Zaeed to predict whether he'd spend the day following her into firefights or lurking in the cargo hold and smoking. Miranda was coming with them this time, perched on a seat near the door watching the scanners, her perfect legs crossed, one boot swinging. Zaeed would have appreciated the view more if he didn't keep glancing between the planet below them and that single moving finger.

This felt bad to him.

He had twenty goddamn years riding on this. He could trust the Cerebus girl to do what she was asked to – her demeanour was one of relaxed boredom, it was another day on the job to her. She'd be smart enough to stay out of his way.

Molly Shepard was something else. She had a goddamn _code_, and the universe would end before she broke it. If Vido had grown soft in the head and actually surrendered, Zaeed knew he'd have to be beyond quick to get that shot in before Shepard could stop him.

He'd told Shepard about this when they'd first met, about this last job he had to finish before their suicide mission. He'd waited on Omega for her for the best part of a week, and had captured his prisoner once he'd heard she was arriving. He wanted to see what kind of reaction he'd get from the once-hero of the Alliance.

He hadn't paid a lot of attention when the battle for the Citadel was all over the news. He'd been on a job, protecting some snivelling salarian who had stolen industrial secrets from the wrong people. Zaeed hadn't been babysitting him so much as using him as bait, moving him around the Traverse and picking off the assassins that slunk in their wake. It meant that when he'd been briefed the name Shepard had been little more than a vague memory.

She'd looked prettier in the news vids; they must have tweaked something to make her nose look shorter. On Omega she looked like hell, her face criss-crossed with fault lines, pale and tired and stressed as she scrambled to catch up with a galaxy that had moved on without her. She hadn't reacted to his treatment of the prisoner, only pursing her lips slightly when Zaeed had put a bullet through the batarian's knee. At that point, Zaeed had thought they were going to get on just fine. She'd tell him where to shoot, and beyond that would stay out of his business.

No such stinking luck. He wasn't just a hired gun, oh no, he was expected to be part of some multi-species _team. _Zaeed didn't like it. She could argue all night with Mordin, or sing the baby krogan to sleep if she wanted, but he'd forestalled any attempts at _bonding_ with an endless stream of war stories. It hadn't stopped her coming to see him though, and she merely looked slightly amused when he launched another trip down memory lane. If he didn't know better, he'd have thought she liked it.

It was hard to tell what she was thinking. The first thing she'd done on Omega was visit the markets for a pair of shades with a built-in targeting system. The rumour on board the _Normandy_ now was that she slept in them. Zaeed's personal theory was that she didn't want to be recognized, and given the number of people they ran in to that she'd either helped or hindered before her death he could see why.

Her finger stopped tapping. She'd turned off her music. The shuttle began to vibrate slightly as they dropped through the atmosphere, and Shepard checked her weapons.

"You ready?" she asked him, he could barely hear her over the noise, and he half lip-read her question.

"I've been ready since you were in pigtails," he replied. Daft question.

Zorya was a sauna. It smelled damp and fungous, and their boots skidded slightly on a layer of lichen and slime. Zaeed could feel sweat start to collect on his forehead almost immediately. Miss Genetically Perfect probably had built-in air conditioning, and she didn't look bothered by the conditions. Shepard looked stoic, like she usually did. She held herself loosely, stance relaxed, impressions unformed, waiting for information; signs of distress or danger.

She got them once Zaeed managed to plug them into the Blue Suns communication channels. Zaeed felt his stomach clench in cold, hard anger when he heard the familiar chatter. He'd had a good thing going here, he had a friend. Two humans making their way among a galaxy full of aliens, only three years since humanity had poked its nose into galactic affairs and nearly got it shot off by the turians. Vido had joked that they'd been pioneers.

"This is my mission," he ground out.

This was too important to entrust to anyone else. She could have the rest of the galaxy, hell, that was her mission, but this hellhole of sweat and flies and allergens was his. His until Vido got what had been a long time coming.

To his surprise, she didn't argue. She looked at him for a few moments, and electronics gleamed redly in her glasses, telling her how many meters away he was, and probably putting a set of crosshairs right between his eyes. Without a movement of acknowledgement or denial, she turned and led the way into the forest, towards the refinery.

Zaeed was not reassured. After all these years, Vido was so close he could smell him and it was putting him on edge. He wouldn't relax until he'd seen the bastard burn. You better not screw this up for me, Shepard.

They had them on the run, as Zaeed expected they would. If nothing else Shepard had impressed him with the ease she organized fast, brutal strike teams into fortified territory. Half the time her eye was glued to the scope of her sniper rifle, but she never seemed to lose track of the bigger picture. The radio told them they were walking into an ambush, but neither Shepard nor Miranda turned an eyelash at the idea.

Tough bitches, both of them.

He had no reason to think anything Vido had up his sleeve could do more than slow them down, but his instincts were still telling him he had to be on his guard. He trusted his instincts.

Shepard was extending the bridge to the refinery when he held up his hand. He heard the voice he'd silenced a million times in his head bristle with static in his ear. She had to know exactly what she was walking in to. If she'd guessed this wasn't just another job for him, she hadn't pressed the issue. More of that damn touchy-feely knowing what people wanted crap. Not that he'd have told her if she'd asked.

So he told her. The extremely abbreviated version. He couldn't help but feel a flare of pride when she raised her eyebrows above the edge of her glasses, and the corner of her mouth quirked in an impressed smirk.

"You founded the Blue Suns? Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"Who's to know?" He shrugged it off; they had other things to concern themselves with. He'd told her, and if she was as hell-bent on securing her blasted team harmony as she'd said, she'd let him finish the job, come what may.

He wasn't prepared to see Vido. He'd thought he was, but the last time they'd been face to face, Zaeed had been struggling for his life, spitting and swearing, sheer hate giving him strength. They'd needed every man there to hold him still. And Zaeed had roared himself hoarse at his old friend, swearing revenge from beyond the grave if necessary. The most well trodden path down memory lane ended at that point, with Vido's cold expression, the flash of light followed by red blooming rage. Not pain. Rage.

Despite the heat and humidity, Zaeed felt himself grow cold, his sweat chill on his skin. Everything was clear; he could count the grey hairs at Vido's temples, sense Shepard turn her head slightly so she could watch him out of the corner of her eye as well as Vido, and he could feel the static charge from Miranda's biotics.

He raised his gun as Miranda and Shepard dived for cover. _Burn, you son of a bitch._ He exalted as the gas pipe behind the mercenary leader went up, but it hadn't been enough. He ignored the bullets pinging and ricocheting off the metal around him and Shepard's yell, brute forcing the valve with the back of his rifle to let more accelerant into the burning system.

The second set of explosions sent burning blue sun bodies flying, but Vido had escaped further into the refinery.

Shepard was tight-lipped in fury, but Zaeed's rage was bottomless. It didn't matter now, he'd made them a way in, and Shepard could pout about it if she want-

His ear rang as Shepard clobbered him. He hadn't been expecting it and his hand went to his nose, wondering if it had been broken again. He turned on her, bristling to do battle. He had more than enough rage to spare for anyone who got between him and his revenge.

"You want to do this?" he snarled, momentum for the fight building.

"I'd love to, but thanks to you we have a burning refinery to save." She turned with a dismissive wave of her pistol and Zaeed felt the moment slipping away.

"Let them burn! Vido dies."

But she was already waving them forward, darting through the burning gateway with Miranda at her heels. Zaeed followed.

And he followed again when she reprioritized their mission. _His_ mission. There wasn't time to argue, and he knew the futility of even trying as he felt precious seconds tick away. Turn off the gas, get the fire systems working, what the _hell_? At least she didn't waste any time soaking up the gratitude of the refinery workers. Her face was set in a grim mask of determination as they fought their way forward, Vido always darting out of reach ahead of them.

"Come on," she snapped irritably, bringing down fuel tanks on the enemies ahead of them. One of them came down close enough that Zaeed could feel the blast on the other side of the crate he was hiding behind, and he shot her a sharp glance, uncertain if the near miss was deliberate, but she wasn't watching him, focusing on her next target instead.

And it was all in vain.

Zaeed raged as Vido's gunship rose into the muggy air, and when he was too far out of range, he turned his rage, and his gun, on Shepard.

"You just cost me twenty years of my life!"

Shepard just shook her head, an odd, slightly disbelieving expression on her face. Whatever she was about to say was lost when half the landing pad went up, and Zaeed found himself pinned painfully under a girder. The universe was just hell-bent on piling it on today, wasn't it? And now he was a captive audience.

"What the hell? You put personal revenge ahead of the mission, Zaeed. How can I trust you on my team?" He couldn't see her eyes, but he could sense the glare.

"Personal revenge _was_ the mission, Shepard. I'm a professional; I'll do what I was goddamn paid to do. Nothing more." To hell with this locker-room bonding. This was just a job. He wanted to get off this shitheap of a planet as soon as possible.

His eyes narrowed as she shook her head. "You can't put your own goals ahead of the mission. That's not the way this works." She sounded tired.

"I don't need anyone else to watch my back. I've survived this long because I'm not worrying about anyone else." He didn't need any of this, whatever it was she thought they needed.

He glanced up as she walked over, expecting her to turn on that charm he'd seen used to good effect on all races, one of those hypnotic speeches of hers that was often accompanied by a sincere, charming smile. I'd like to see you try, he thought, as she pushed her glasses up to rest on the top of her head.

Her eyes were greenish-grey, at least they were under open sky, he hadn't noticed on Omega. He found himself looking into them around the barrel of her pistol. He could smell hot metal, as instinctive fear clawed at his throat and he fought it down. Her eyes blazed with determination, her jaw set.

"You're part of a team now, Zaeed. There is _no way_ we can do this unless we're all working together." A flick of her wrist and now he was looking at _her_ over the sights briefly before she reholstered the weapon. She cracked a faint smile as she pulled her glasses back down over her eyes. "Trust me, I've done this before."

"You… you have a point." Some experience you just didn't argue with. "I'm not done with Vido," he added, as she bent to lift the girder off his leg. "Put I'll put it aside for now."

"That's win-win," she said, offering him a hand. "If we fail to stop the Reapers, Vido dies anyway. So cheer up."

He didn't feel like cheering up just yet.

"Let's get the hell out of here."

She didn't argue. Miranda reappeared from wherever she'd tactfully removed herself to and Zaeed limped after them to the shuttle. He sensed Shepard watching him and he pointedly ignored her on the trip back to the _Normandy_, even when her finger started tapping.


	2. Tuchanka

He'd expected her to visit him, to get any _lingering resentments_ regarding Vido out of his system, but the Illusive Man got to her first. They were going to Horizon, and Shepard picked both him and Garrus to accompany her. The reasoning was more obvious this time; she wanted survivors beside her. Zaeed glanced at the fresh scars on the turian's face and reflected that all three had all but come back from the dead once already.

And surviving Horizon felt like they'd done it again. Zaeed had never experienced anything like it. He'd heard of the Collectors, but faced with the reality of them – it was a nervy business, no mistake. Not that it slowed him down any. They still died when shot enough. The seeker swarms were maddening; oppressive enough without knowing what they were capable of should Mordin's shields fail.

Zaeed began to realise the scope of what he'd signed up for. And why she'd deemed it necessary to pull a gun on him. He wouldn't have wanted to fight this with anyone less than committed himself, he had to admit. Even that wouldn't have been enough. If EDI hadn't managed to get those guns working, Zaeed couldn't see how they'd have gotten out in one piece. He didn't dwell on what-ifs. The vast collector ship was leaving, and the skies above Horizon once again clear.

The colony was a ghost town. Any surviving colonists would be on the far side, and the faint hum of generators and the anti-Alliance tirade by the mechanic were all the broke the sudden silence as the guns ceased firing. Zaeed couldn't blame the poor old bastard really, but that didn't make him want to shut him up any less.

And then the Alliance soldier appeared. Both Shepard and Garrus reacted, and Zaeed guessed this was another of Shepard's original crew. Zaeed wasn't terribly impressed, although Shepard looked happy enough to see him. As long as they didn't install him in the cargo hold, they'd get on fine.

But there wasn't any joyful reunion and recruitment. They had a brief, cold argument about Cerberus, and Kaiden spared enough attention to give Garrus a serve and then he was walking away, Shepard merely watching him.

"I've had enough of this colony," Shepard said, radioing Joker for a pick up. On the trip back, she had her music up loud enough that Zaeed, sitting across from her, could hear the faint buzz of the beat in her ears. She wasn't tapping her fingers, either, instead gazing out the window, her expression grim.

Zaeed didn't know whether he felt vindicated by the existence of someone who didn't appear to think the galaxy revolved around Commander Shepard, or irritated with the man for being such a wet blanket about it. If Zaeed could see there was something seriously big happening here, surely Kaiden could as well.

He knew he was due for another visit, but didn't expect it to be so soon after arriving back on the Normandy. She must have given the Illusive Man an abridged version of events on Horizon.

And then gone straight to him.

She walked right in without so much as knocking, as per bloody usual. He was getting pretty good at recognising her footsteps approaching down the corridor. It was her ship, he supposed and she could go wherever she bloody well felt like, but he would have preferred a bit more privacy. Although she never disturbed him out of 'office hours' as it were.

"Vido," she stated, putting her back to the window and folding her arms.

"Sorted," he replied. "Don't get me wrong, I'll find that bastard, and it won't take me twenty years this time." He could feel the anger stirring just thinking about it, and he forced it down. "But your mission comes first, Shepard."

She could have looked a bit more goddamn grateful. She nodded slowly at him, as if his answer was merely a formality. Maybe it was.

"I'm sorry we didn't get him," she said. "He's got it coming."

"That he has," Zaeed replied. He wasn't going to let himself be drawn on the topic. No one, no one in the galaxy could understand what he'd been through, and he wasn't about to watch her try. "That Kaiden," he said, going on the offensive instead, "why didn't you put a gun to _his_ head?"

"It wouldn't have worked." She raised a shoulder in a half-shrug and then smiled, "And then I'd have been obligated to shoot him."

"Huh." Zaeed was amused in spite of himself. "He seemed pretty far up your arse until you told him who signs your pay check."

"He's a good soldier." Iron had entered her voice, "And I don't blame him for feeling the way he does. Hell, if I'd have been in his shoes I'd have done the same thing. You weren't there, Zaeed, you haven't seen Cerebus research facilities first-hand. In operation."

Zaeed levered himself off the wall and stalked over to her, and she glanced up at him in surprise as he approached. "And you weren't there when Vido put a bullet through my head, so what the hell is the difference between me and him, Shepard?"

"He's doing what he believes is right, Zaeed, he is following his principles, while you wanted nothing more than revenge." She forestalled him before he could protest further. "You want to know what the difference there is?" She looked up at him with a crooked, unhappy smile, and Zaeed had the horrible feeling he'd lost this argument before it had even started. "I could talk you out of it. And I did. I could no more talk Kaiden out of being a decent person than I could talk a volus out of a good deal."

Zaeed stepped back, shifting his jaw as he tried to think of a comeback. "How did you know you could talk me out of it?" He returned to his spot against the wall, scowling.

"Instinct?" Shepard shrugged.

"Wishful thinking, more like."

She smiled faintly, "Maybe." She tilted her head, "You know, that mission on Zorya really took me back."

Zaeed gazed at her steadily, wary. He hadn't been in the mood to be teased for several years now, and he didn't rise to the bait. She waited a few moments for a response then continued.

"You're not the first crew member I've had to pull a gun on." She shook her head, a nostalgic smile on her face, "I still don't know how I managed to talk him down. You actually remind me of him, a bit."

Zaeed sighed, "All right, Shepard, I'll bite. Who?"

Her smile broadened into a grin that overwhelmed the stress lines and half-healed scars. Zaeed was slightly shocked to recognise the girl he'd seen on the news vids when she answered, "Mordin has some business on Tuchanka. Hopefully, I'll introduce you." She shifted her weight from the window to her feet and turned to leave. "I'll talk to you later," she said.

"Right, Shepard." He realised those were about the most words he'd head from her in their little chats. Up until now, she'd spent most of the time listening to his stories with little more than a 'hello' and a 'goodbye' to bracket them.

"Oh," she paused at the doorway, as if she'd just thought of something. "You should see Dr Chakwas about that," she flicked a finger next to her left cheek, indicating the purplish bruise that stretched across his one remaining cheekbone, a souvenir of their time on Zorya.

"'M fine," he said flatly, scowling at her. Cheeky bitch. He couldn't figure out where she was getting the idea that they were friends.

Tuchanka was a bit of an eye-opener, if he was being honest. Mordin's problem, whatever the hell _that_ was, was obviously not the most important item on her agenda, because she took Garrus with them rather than the salarian. Zaeed couldn't see what the big deal was; Tuchanka was a still-smouldering ruin, full of hostile animals and krogan. Shepard seemed to think otherwise, however, gazing about like a colony rube on their first spaceflight.

She made a beeline for the clan leader, and to Zaeed's surprise, he made a beeline for _her_. He shoved his guards aside to give Shepard a handshake and a pat on the back that Zaeed was convinced would have been a hug if they hadn't been in public. So this was who she'd compared him to: Urdnot Wrex. Zaeed had heard of the mercenary in a professional sense, and the rumour, now proved true, was he'd dropped out of sight to return to his homeworld.

Zaeed wasn't sure if he was flattered or not.

"Garrus."

"Wrex." The two aliens shook hands, friendly enough, Wrex approving of the turian's presence.

Shepard rubbed her hands together, "Send the shuttle back for Mordin. And Grunt; I think he should see this."

Garrus volunteered and Zaeed suddenly found himself at a loose end as Shepard caught up with her old comrade. There was nothing to do but watch varren fight, or watch Shepard listen, apparently fascinated, to the krogan's political plans. Zaeed attempted the former but found himself doing the latter. He'd never seen a krogan, let alone a clan leader, so friendly to an alien before. They'd taken themselves off to a corner; Wrex gesturing as he explained something, Shepard nodding agreeably and smiling, her glasses perched on top of her head.

Zaeed scowled.

Grunt and Mordin arrived soon after, and the former shared Zaeed's apathy with regard to Tuchanka, while the latter appeared to find _everything_ interesting to some degree. Zaeed managed to make fifteen hundred credits with the varren when he heard Shepard laughing. She was nudging the krogan with her elbow while he shook his head and grumbled good-naturedly.

To Zaeed's relief that appeared to be the end of the conversation, and Shepard turned her attention to Mordin's problem. Zaeed could sense some tension between the two, and not the sort that ended in playing doctors and nurses. She wasn't at the point of putting a gun to the scientist's head but they did nothing but argue, seriously and, in his view, pointlessly, about the genophage. They finally took a truck out and he concentrated on shooting things; he couldn't care less about Mordin.

As he expected, she prevented Mordin from shooting his old student, but what he didn't expect was her change of heart about the research he'd been doing.

"It's tainted," she said, gazing up at the screen, lip curled in disgust. "Nothing good can come of this."

Mordin, obviously undecided himself, moved his fingers over the console, flicking through the data. "That would mean the deaths were wasted. They died for nothing."

Zaeed was surprised to see her hesitate. Reflected data slid down her glasses as she bowed her head for a few moments. Of all the things to be suddenly uncertain of, why this, he wondered. She'd blazed her way through the galaxy with iron-clad principles, without hesitation or room for argument.

"Save the data," she said suddenly. "Maybe some good can come of all of this. Maybe you can help them." Mordin didn't reply, but he did as she suggested, downloading a copy of the research before wiping the systems clean.

That seemed to satisfy her, and the running argument came to an end, for now at least. Mordin was obviously far more concerned about his ex-student, and the salarian spent the ride back twitching slightly as he worked through things in his head. Shepard drove.

They weren't done with Tuchanka, although Mordin obviously was.

Grunt was going through some sort of vague krogan hormonal crisis, and Shepard left it up to the krogan to prescribe a cure. Zaeed was unsurprised to learn it involved shooting a lot of things. Shepard seemed to think it was a great idea. She had a faint smile on her face as they made their way to the keystone.

When waves of varren started attacking, Zaeed rolled his eyes. Was this meant to be difficult? This wouldn't even make a good story for later. But by the time the harvester flew in, dropping klixen, an adrenaline fuelled bloodlust had begun to settle upon them, and they shouted and scrambled and fought and the arena reeked of hot metal and scorched chitin.

Zaeed's enthusiasm was curbed when he saw the tell-tale signs of a thresher maw approaching. Survive this, on _foot_? His heart was pounding as he shoved a fresh heat sink into his rifle, looking at Shepard as the shaman's voice boomed around them, preaching survival.

"Survive?" Shepard snarled, not a trace of fear in her voice. "Like hell I'm settling for that!" Her sniper rifle folded itself up neatly against the magnetic strip on her back as she reached for the Collector weapon she'd appropriated on Horizon.

Grunt slammed his fist into his palm with a roar of approval. They were both goddamn mad, Zaeed thought. But when Shepard vaulted over a piece of rubble, he found himself following.

He ran interference for her. Her weapon was powerful enough to gouge huge rifts in the thresher maw's hide, and it writhed in pain before diving after her. She turned and ran, as the ground shook and the monster spat acid strong enough to melt through armour at her heels. Zaeed heard himself yell as he ran at the monster, firing his rifle all-but-uselessly at its massive head.

He felt briefly triumphant when he got the beast's attention before wondering what the ever-loving _fuck_ he thought he was doing. It was his turn to run. He heard another pained roar and saw Grunt right up against the creature's side- _did the krogan have a death-wish_- blasting holes in its comparatively soft underbelly. Then the needling buzz of Shepard's laser cut through the chaos and the process was repeated.

It felt endless. The Collector beam had spent itself against the thresher maw's unforgiving hide and Shepard had returned to her rifle, dropping down on one knee and squeezing off a shot before darting for cover again. The ground was slick with blood and slime, and Zaeed thought he could smell it eating through his boots. Acrid air burned in his lungs, and he'd been hit enough times that thresher-spit was eating into his arms and back.

They were trapped in the arena, while the thresher maw was free to move where it willed, and gradually what cover there was began to get eaten away, or simply destroyed, either by the body of the thresher maw or their own weapons.

He was sure he was incapable of taking another painful, exhausted step when the creature thrashed briefly and sank back into the ground with a defeated, dying groan. It took him a few seconds to process what had happened, and he staggered, gazing about at the destruction.

Shepard coughed harshly, and she swayed slightly before finding her feet again. Her mouth twisted into the most satisfied, victorious smile he'd ever seen, and she cocked her hip and slung her rifle over her shoulder, regarding the hole which the thresher maw had died in. He had to smile; he supposed she'd earned that pose.

"I am krogan!" Grunt roared, and Zaeed found himself being bellowed at and pounded painfully on the back. From both sides, as Shepard joined in the celebrations, and then the three of them were burning off excess fear and adrenaline, shouting and thumping each other on the shoulders, exalting and disbelieving of what they'd achieved.

Uvnek's appearance was not unexpected, but it was a bit anticlimactic. Shepard had merely exchanged a glance with Grunt, leaving it up to him to reject the insulting offer, and the subsequent firefight was practically a formality, despite their injuries. They'd killed a thresher maw and, today at least, they were bullet-proof.

The truck on the way back reeked of acid, hot metal, burnt plastic, adrenaline and hormones. Zaeed wasn't sure Grunt was solely responsible for the latter. That had been a hell of a fight, and he was still coming down off it. He tried not to think about that cocked hip and extraordinary smile, and it was more difficult than it should have been.

He'd followed her right into a fight with a thresher maw, and he now knew he'd follow her wherever the Collectors led her. And after all of that, he considered she'd owe him a drink or two. Somewhere quiet. Forget the hazard pay.


End file.
